


eye of the storm

by graveExcitement (arachnids)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-26 17:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14406843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arachnids/pseuds/graveExcitement
Summary: By all logic and tradition, Jedi Knight Robb Stark and Sith Apprentice Theon Greyjoy should be mortal enemies. But when they meet by chance in an ancient Sith temple, they feel a spark of an old connection.





	eye of the storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theonsfavouritetoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonsfavouritetoy/gifts).



> Thanks to liesmyth for the beta!

Theon Greyjoy, erstwhile Sith Apprentice, had no idea what he was doing.

That panic, that ‘oh god what have I done, what am I doing, I’m so _fucked’_ \- ran underneath the surface of his mind constantly, and had been growing as the days went on. As more and more time passed since his escape. He tried to remind himself that if Darth Canae - if Ramsay - hadn’t found him yet, his chances of doing so worsened by the day.

The more time elapsed, the more he should be able to relax. The more he could think that maybe he really had gotten away with it. Maybe Ramsay actually believed he was dead - that was the most optimistic option, but the least likely - or maybe he knew he was alive, but couldn’t find him.

But Theon couldn’t relax; the longer he went undiscovered, the more panic started to bubble within him. A traitorous voice in the back of his head kept whimpering, _The longer it is before he finds me, the worse it will be_.

That thought sent shudders through him because he could not refute it. If - _please, Force, let that be “if” and not “when”_ \- Ramsay found him, the depths of his rage would be proportionate to how long he’d been missing. On the worst, most terrified, nights, he wondered if it wouldn’t be better to just go back now. Get it over with. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t go crawling back, because that was what Ramsay wanted. Because then he’d never know if escaping Ramsay’s grasp really _was_ possible.

Because if he did he might never work up the nerve to escape again.

Might become the dog Ramsay wanted him to be.

That thought filled him with a mixture of rage and fear. He embraced the rage, for if he focused on the fear he might lose himself entirely. The fear was still there, underneath. But if he stoked the fires of his hatred enough, he felt like a real Sith. Not just Ramsay’s pet.

There was one thing he had going for him, one advantage that kept the terror at bay, at least a little bit. His hiding place. The Temple.

He’d picked this planet because it was, by and large, inhospitable, with constant storms and nasty acidic rain. But as he was guiding his ship down to the surface, the Force called out to him. He flew over the planet’s roiling seas until he saw it. An ancient Sith Temple. It was positively steeped in Darkness. His rage, his terror, his hatred - the emotions that would call out to Ramsay like a beacon - were drowned out by the Temple’s sheer Darkness.

The perfect place for a Sith who had faked his death to hide.

Not that he was, well, a _real_ Sith. The highest title he could claim was Sith Apprentice, and even then he knew deep down that that had just been an excuse for Ramsay to torment him. But he was enough of one that the Temple accepted him. If he had been a Jedi, or even a neutral Force user, it would have eaten him alive.

It might still eat him alive. But that would be a better end than being found.

He was practicing his lightsaber forms in an old training room he’d found when he felt a ripple in the Force. Like someone had dropped a pebble into the swirling darkness of the Temple.

_Someone else is here._

Just like that, he felt the suppressed terror rise up again, and for half a second he thought he’d throw up. He managed not to through sheer force of will, and felt the nausea pass. But the fear was still there.

_He’s here._

And that meant… it was over. If Ramsay had followed him here, there was nowhere within the Temple he could hide. He shook, caught between terror and manic laughter. _Of course. Of course he could find me even here._

Dragging this out would only make the torment worse. But, having spent weeks immersed in the heart of darkness, he felt hatred spark within him, and welcomed it gladly. _Why should I make it easy for the bastard?_

Riding that surge of spite, he slipped into a nearby office and brought up the ancient security interface. With a few jabs, he found the camera feeds for the entrance hall - and was brought to a complete halt.

There was someone else in the temple. But it wasn’t Ramsay Bolton.

* * *

Robb Stark, newly minted Jedi Knight, was out of his depth.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a string of bad luck. First, the pirate ambush that had damaged his ship, including his comms and hyperdrive. Then the only planet close enough for him to fly to without hyperdrive not only had no civilized settlements, but had a serious case of acid rain, which certainly wasn’t helping the ‘damaged ship’ problem.

Just when he’d been on the verge of giving up, he’d felt the Force call out to him. Following that call led him to an honest-to-goodness structure, somewhere to take shelter and repair his ship. But then he landed, and found out just which maniacs had thought the _acid rain planet_ was a fine place to live: the Sith. It was a Sith Temple.

He wasn’t sure which was worse right now: being outside, in the worst of the acid rainstorm, or being inside. He’d chosen inside, and darkly wondered if he’d even live to regret it.

The atmosphere of the Temple was oppressive, bearing down on him as soon as he’d stepped inside. Robb didn’t dare move any closer inside than was necessary to take shelter from the rain. This place hated him, he could tell. The very shadows seemed malicious - and maybe they were. This building was who knew how many millennia old - maybe even older than the Jedi Temple he called home.

When he reached out with the Force, all he felt was Darkness. This was no place for a Jedi, much less a Jedi that had only just passed his Trials. But there was no point going back outside with the storm still raging. So he could only watch the shifting shadows, until -

“What are you doing here?”

The voice was hoarse, and came from across the darkened entrance hall. Robb’s hand dropped to the lightsaber at his belt. No matter the voice’s origin - whether man, Force spirit, or living manifestation of Darkness - there was no questioning that it would have no good opinion of a Jedi.

There was also no questioning that here, where the Dark side of the Force was strongest, Robb barely stood a chance.

“Taking shelter from the rain,” he called back, hoping the truth would ring in his voice.

A shadow drifted closer to him, and Robb could see in the dim light that it was humanoid, dressed in dark clothes. “You’d be better off leaving,” the voice said, stronger this time. “This is no place for Jedi.”

He swallowed. The voice, the man, already recognized him as a Jedi. Not good. “Believe me, if I could get off this wretched planet, I would,” he said. “But I can’t repair my ship in the storm, and without repairs I’m stuck.”

The man took another step forward, into just enough light that Robb could tell for sure he was human… and see that his irises glinted yellow. Robb breathed in and out carefully, to keep his heartbeat under control. He’d already known the other man was Dark, but those yellow irises could only mean he was a Sith.

No one had seen a Sith in twenty-five years, since Jaime Lannister had slain Emperor Aerys, the last known Sith Lord. When Robb was a Padawan, Master Brynden had been sure to remind him that that didn’t mean that the Sith were gone. They thrived in darkness, in secrecy, and twenty-five years was nothing compared to the millenia of conflict between the Jedi and Sith. It wasn’t a popular opinion amongst today’s Jedi, but Robb thought his old Master was probably right. Now he had proof.

“Lights,” said the man, and around the hall, lights began to glow a deep red, because apparently the Sith valued aesthetics over decent lighting. Still, it gave Robb a better look at the man, who he realized with a shock was probably not much older than he was. The man - the _Sith_ \- was gaunt, practically skeletal. He was dressed in black robes, and his left hand was covered with a black glove.

The Sith looked… brittle. It was a dangerous thought, because Robb couldn’t afford to underestimate a Sith, but he couldn’t help but think it. It wasn’t just the Sith’s skeletal frame. He also stood slightly hunched over - not the confident, powerful stance he’d expect from a Sith. And the Sith was staring at him, examining him just as he was examining the Sith. But Robb didn’t find malice in his gaze. Only uncertainty.

What kind of Sith was uncertain?

And there was something else. Something the Force was trying to tell him about this man. But what?

Robb frowned. The Sith could have attacked him already, or lured him deeper into the temple, where ancient traps and the Dark Side would devour him. That he hadn’t done so yet meant maybe he had a chance of getting out alive. ”Look,” he said, breaking the silence, “I’m only here because I have no other choice. Once the storm passes, I’ll be gone. You’ll never see me again.”

“But you’ll tell others,” said the Sith. Was he _trembling?_ “You’re a Jedi. You’ll tell the other Jedi.”

Hells. “All I’m thinking about,” he said slowly, “is getting off this blasted planet. I’m hardly going to lead my fellow Jedi here.”

The man shook his head. “You know I’m a Sith,” he said. “You’re not going to keep the existence of a living Sith secret. Not when the Council asks you.”

Robb couldn’t deny that. His _father_ was on the Council. In the old days, he knew, before Aerys’ reign, Jedi weren’t allowed to have families. But Aerys’ slaughter of the Jedi Order resulted in the few remaining Jedi letting that tradition fall by the wayside.

He couldn’t lie to his father about something as important as this. About the resurgence of the Sith. Couldn’t, and wouldn’t. And, well. Was it not the duty of the Jedi to hunt the Sith? Even if it meant his doom, it would be an honorable way to die.

 _A stupid way to die,_ he could hear his old Master Brynden telling him. He was the only one who knew that Sith still remained in the galaxy, and if he died, that knowledge died with him. But a true Sith would not give him a choice.

“So I can’t stay,” he said softly, “and you can’t let me leave.” His grip tightened on his lightsaber hilt.

The man swallowed. “No one can know I’m here,” he said in his hoarse voice. “No one.” He put his hand on his own lightsaber hilt, but didn’t draw it.

 _What was staying his hand?_ Robb wondered. The man’s behavior was unlike any Sith he’d ever heard of. He was a far cry from Darth Aerys, that was for sure. The more Robb looked at him, the more he looked like a strong breeze could blow him over.

Of course, even if he was physically weak, he was in home territory. The Dark Side of the Force swirled around him, throughout the entire temple. It was part of why Robb was so reluctant to draw his blade; even if he could best the Sith in a duel, there was no telling what the malignant Darkness would do to him once the fight began.

The other reason Robb hadn’t ignited his saber yet was that the Sith hadn’t, either. He wasn’t sure why the man was reluctant, but if he could figure out the source of that reluctance, maybe he could get out of there alive, without having to duel a Sith Lord in a Sith Temple. He could feel the Dark Side roiling around him, anticipatory.

“My communications systems are broken,” Robb said, keeping his tone even. The Sith jerked in surprise but didn’t move to attack. He continued, “As soon as I get out there, I’ll fix the hyperdrive and go. But without comms, I won’t be able to tell the Council anything until I report in person. And by then, you can be long gone.”

He knew even as he spoke that this argument was full of holes, the foremost one being that it still required a Sith to trust a Jedi. So when the Sith shook his head, Robb wasn’t surprised.

What the Sith said, though, was startling. “I can’t leave,” he said in a near-whisper. “He’ll find me if I do, and then it’ll all have been for nothing.”

“Who’ll find you?” Robb asked. The words came out sharper than he meant, for he saw the man flinch in response, eyes darting around the crimson-lit room. The Sith didn’t answer.

Who did a Sith need to hide from? The Jedi - but he’d referred to an individual, and which individual, _specific_ Jedi would a Sith fear? The only man to kill a Sith in living memory was Jaime Lannister, and he wasn’t even a Jedi, though his skills with a lightsaber were on par with one. Besides, no Jedi knew for sure that any Sith still lived - except for Robb, now. So then who…?

It clicked, and for a moment everything felt clear in the Force, even in the midst of this darkness. “Your Master,” Robb breathed. “That’s who you’re hiding from, isn’t it?” Hadn’t he thought earlier that the man wasn’t much older than him? And he himself had only recently graduated from Jedi Padawan to Jedi Knight. Of course the man had a Master - and it fit that a Sith would only fear another Sith.

The man shuddered, and Robb knew he was right. He could sense the man’s fear spike at the mention of his Master. No - not just fear. Sheer terror. His heart ached. He didn’t know why.

Robb reached for the Force, and felt twin sensations of clarity and confusion. The man, instead of being completely shrouded in darkness, felt increasingly familiar. But why would a Sith feel familiar?

”What’s your name?” he blurted out.

The Sith looked at him, and Robb thought he saw confusion eclipse the man’s fear. “My name?” he repeated. There was a long silence as the man visibly hesitated, before he finally stood up straight and said, “It’s - Theon. My name’s Theon.” He could see determination flickering in Theon’s eyes.

“I’m Robb,” he said, “Robb Stark. Jedi Knight.” He bit his tongue, wondering what had possessed him to remind Theon of _that_ particular fact. It occurred to him that if a Jedi Master ever learned of this particular exchange, they’d be sorely tempted to revoke his Knighthood. The man was a kriffing Sith, and they were standing in a Sith Temple. They should have clashed sabers minutes ago, not exchanged names…

But something in Robb ached when he looked at Theon, and he knew that igniting his saber would be something he’d sorely regret - and, he was beginning to realize, not just because the Temple would surely strike at him if he did.

And the name he’d given. Theon. That wasn’t a Sith name. That in and of itself was strange, but… it fit this Sith who didn’t act like a Sith.

Theon laughed then, bitterly. “I guess it doesn’t matter how much I tell you,” he said. “If you leave, that’s enough to condemn me on its own. And if you don’t leave… well.” He hunched inwards. “Theon Greyjoy - though I guess I’ve probably been disowned by this point. So just Theon, I guess. Sith Apprentice.” His yellow eyes darted towards Robb.

So, not even a Sith Lord yet. Just an apprentice. Maybe that explained some of Theon’s reluctance. Or maybe Theon was feeling the same odd feeling of familiarity he was. “Can we sit?” Robb asked. “I’ve been on my feet since I got here.” And it might make the tension a little less likely to ignite into violence if they didn’t each feel like the other one was one step away from pulling out their lightsaber.

“Why the hell not?” Theon said, and it heartened Robb to see him look a little bit more alive. They both sat, Robb leaning against the giant door to the hall and Theon a few feet away.

“So. Your master?” he prompted.

“If he finds me, he won’t kill me,” Theon said, gaze fixated on a point somewhere over Robb’s shoulder. “That would be merciful. When he finds me...” His expression crumpled, and he fell silent for a moment, leaving Robb to consider what kind of punishments a wrathful Sith Lord might inflict on his wayward apprentice. Then he said, “I never learned - he never taught me - how to hide myself in the Force, hide myself from other Force users. The only reason I’ve stayed hidden is because I’ve been _here_.” He waved a hand to indicate the Temple. “There’s so much Darkness here that I’m just a drop in a bucket.”

Robb nodded. “I couldn’t even sense you until you first spoke,” he offered. Though that already seemed unbelievable; by now, Theon felt like a beacon, calling out to him. How could he not have sensed him?

Theon looked at him then, almost pleading. “Right, but - that only works as long as no one knows I’m here, and as long as I stay put. I - I can’t leave, I can’t go back there, I _can’t._ ” He closed his eyes. “I don’t want to kill you, Robb. I don’t know why. I guess I’m not a very good Sith. But - there’s something between us in the Force. Do you feel it?”

“I - yes,” he said, startling himself with the admission. But he _did_ feel it, more intensely with each minute. When he reached out into the Force; it was the only thing he could sense that wasn’t pure Darkness. “I feel like… like we should have already met, years and years ago. Like we’re meant to be…” His words failed him. What belonged at the end of that sentence? Friends? Brothers?

“Yeah, that’s exactly it,” Theon said, relieved. “Meant to be _something_. That’s what I feel, too. I just hope - well, I hope we’re not meant to be enemies.”

The Jedi and Sith had been enemies for millenia. Anything else was absurd. But the more time he spent here, the more he felt on the verge of remembering something, something that would explain why he didn’t want to raise his lightsaber against this man. “Me, too,” Robb admitted, and Theon flashed him a crooked grin that gave him a disorienting sense of deja vu.

The smile was gone almost as soon as it had appeared, though, and Theon returned to a more dour topic. “I know you’re honest to a fault, but. Could you just - not tell anyone? About me. I - I promise I’m not doing anything, well, Sithly. I just want to hide.”

 _Honest to a fault?_ Robb wasn’t sure if that was just something Theon had picked up from their conversation or if it was something he’d sensed through their strange connection in the Force. (Something he’d remembered?) In any case… “And just leave you here?” His own question startled him. He saw Theon hunch in on himself, and hurried to clarify, “Not - it’s not that I think you’ll do anything nefarious.” There was no logic to support that belief, but it rang true in his heart. He hesitated a second, then plunged in. “I don’t know what this connection means. I don’t know what the Force thinks we should be or do. But I don’t want to abandon you here to either hide the rest of your life or - or worse…” _Be found._

Theon looked at him for a moment, then looked away. “You’re a Jedi. You shouldn’t… care.”

“You’re a Sith,” Robb pointed out.

He laughed. “I’m a joke of a Sith. But you’re a good Jedi. A good man.”

“Those aren’t necessarily the same thing.” He leaned forward. “Come with me,” he said impulsively.

Theon stared at him, baffled.

“I can teach you,” Robb said. “How to hide yourself in the Force, I mean - my master at least taught me the basics before admitting I wasn’t exactly cut for stealth missions.” Theon snorted. “Then you’ll have other options besides hiding in an abandoned temple on a hostile planet for the rest of your life.”

Theon hesitated. “And the Jedi? What would you tell them? The more people who know…”

What would he tell the Jedi? His thoughts immediately went to the Council. Master Stannis Baratheon would certainly have harsh words to say about even the small mercy he’d shown Theon so far, let alone actively cooperating with him. And his father… he might have more sympathy, but in the end, he didn’t know if he would be lenient towards a Sith, even a Sith Apprentice who had rejected his master.

Then he thought about his own Master, Brynden Tully. Who had, above all, counseled that Robb do what _he_ believed was right, not merely go along with the edicts of the Order and the Senate. It didn’t make Master Brynden a popular Jedi. But it was a rule Robb had always strove to live by.

“I think,” he said, “there are some things that ought to be left out of my mission report.”

* * *

Theon gave Robb a shaky smile. His mind was whirling, caught up in hope battling with anxiety. Robb’s plan was - stupidly idealistic, and completely absurd, but he found himself getting hopeful despite himself. And there was something that felt familiar, felt right, about Robb’s idealism. It felt like basking in sunlight.

“Though - if there’s anything the Council _should_ know, it’s anything about your - your former master. His existence, for starters, and anything else you could tell me, Theon.” Robb gave him a serious stare. When he hesitated, Robb pointed out, “If he’s busy being hunted down by the Jedi, he won’t be able to hunt _you_ down.”

That did the trick. “He calls himself Darth Canae,” said Theon, “but I know his real identity too. I - I don’t think he ever thought I would actually escape. I think he thought I was broken, and. Well. Not a security risk.” He’d thought the same thing, for… longer than he wanted to admit, even to himself. “His name is Ramsay Bolton.”

Robb’s eyebrows furrowed. “That name sounds familiar… hold on. As in the son of -”

“Senator Roose Bolton? Yes. And - he’s one too. Roose. He’s Ramsay’s master.” Ramsay had gone on and on in the early days of his apprenticeship about how he would kill Roose someday and take his place as the true Sith Master, with Theon at his side. Theon didn’t know if that had all been lies to make him think Ramsay actually found him a worthy apprentice, but he had seen true hatred in Ramsay’s eyes sometimes, when Roose gave him orders. “They’re the only ones I know about.”

“Well, hopefully there aren’t any more,” Robb said.

Theon chuckled bitterly. Then he sighed, and faced reality. “You don’t seriously think this can work, do you? It’s barely a plan. There’s half a dozen holes in it I can think of just off the top of my head, and none of those are even touching the fact that you’re a Jedi, and I’m -”

“Theon,” Robb interrupted, utterly serious, “I’m not leaving you again.” Then he blinked, surprised at his words.

“I don’t think that turned out very well last time. If there was a last time.” But he was beginning to feel more and more like there was. And the more he listened to the Force’s whispers, the more the idea of Robb walking out that door without him felt wrong, screamed _bad idea_ , against all logic.

“We’ll get it right this time,” Robb promised. “Somehow.” Slowly, he stood, and crossed the space between them to hold a hand out to Theon. Theon grabbed his hand like a lifeline, and Robb pulled him onto his feet.

Theon realized he was shaking, and there was a second’s hesitation before Robb drew him into his arms. This was all so absurd, he had to wonder if this wasn’t some cruel hallucination brought on by the Temple, because how could this really be happening? And if it was really happening, then it went against millenia of enmity, of well-earned hatred...

But the Force told him this was real. And he couldn’t explain it, but he felt like this was _right_ , more right than anything he’d done… ever.

He couldn’t help but feel like this was where he belonged. In Robb Stark’s arms. At his side.

“This time, we’ll get it right,” Robb whispered again, a promise and a benediction. And Theon even felt like he might believe him.


End file.
